


i've been thinkin' lots about your mouth

by trishapocalypse



Series: what happened to just messin' 'round? [1]
Category: One Direction (Band), The 1975 (Band)
Genre: M/M, Oral Sex, a thoroughly self-indulgent fic, nervous!harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-26
Updated: 2013-10-26
Packaged: 2017-12-30 13:04:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1018972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trishapocalypse/pseuds/trishapocalypse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Matty doesn't stand Harry up this time, and Harry's an embarrassing little fanboy. (But it's totally cute.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	i've been thinkin' lots about your mouth

**Author's Note:**

> Pals, there are no words for how nervous I am posting this. I don't think there's any Harry/Matt out there yet? So, um, welcome? This is entirely Tari's fault (because we've had _in depth_ discussions about the perfection that is Matty, and, well. This happened?) Please be gentle with me. You're all lovely.

_hey, it’s matty—been busy with tour but i’m back in the city. we should do something._

Harry froze as he read and reread the new message on his mobile about ten times. It was—well, to say a surprise would’ve put it mildly. But it was, really, because Matty was probably one of the last people Harry would’ve ever expected to text him. It had been well over a month since their last conversation, a brief text and a promise to meet up at a party in SoHo that never actually happened. And Harry honestly doubted that he would ever hear from Matty again. Instead of texting Matty back, which was his first instinct, he called Liam, the residential Voice of Reason and Logic in his life, and reason and logic was exactly what he needed. 

_”Hey, Hazza. What’s—“_

“Matty just texted me,” Harry said, interrupting Liam before he could even finish his cursory greeting. 

_”That’s…wonderful.”_

“No, that’s a problem,” he corrected with a sigh. “We haven’t talked in ages.”

_”Wait, who’s Matty?”_

Harry frowned. “Matty? Matthew Healy? The 1975? The—“

 _”Greatest band ever, yeah, yeah, I know, Hazza,”_ Liam told him with a laugh. _”Then isn’t him texting you a good thing? What did he say?”_

Harry tugged his mobile away from his ear to put Liam on speaker, opening up the message. “He said, ‘hey, it’s Matty. I’ve been busy with tour but I’m back in the city. We should do something.’ What does that even _mean_?”

_”Maybe it means he thinks you two should hang out. Maybe he won’t stand you up this time.”_

“He didn’t stand me up, Li,” he protested. “He…got busy.”

Liam scoffed. _”He stood you up, Harry,”_ he repeated.

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his curls. “Okay, maybe he did,” he grumbled. “But it doesn’t matter. Do you think he wants to do something?”

Liam paused. _”Weren’t those…his exact words?”_

“Yeah…”

_”Have you texted him back?”_

“Not yet…”

 _”Text him back. Then call me with your next crisis,”_ Liam teased. 

Harry nodded, well aware that Liam couldn’t see, and he hung up. His thumb scrolled over Matt’s message before typing out a quick reply and hitting send before he could overthink it.

**hey! that sounds good. wanna hit up a club or summat while we’re both in town? .xx**

Ten minutes and no response later and Harry was _really_ starting to second guess his message and, wow, did he really send Matty two little kisses at the end? Yeah, it was his standard reply but—fuck. Harry felt like an _idiot_ , and that feeling only worsened when the fucking ellipsis popped up—twice. Matty almost texted him back twice and _stopped_ and, oh God, Harry was such an idiot. 

_sounds good. friday night. you pick the time and place._

 

+

 

“What about this?” Harry asked, stepping in front of his full-length mirror and holding out his mobile so the camera would catch his entire outfit.

Louis laughed on the other end of the line, rolling his eyes. “You FaceTimed me so I could help you pick out an outfit? Absolutely pathetic, Harry.”

“Shut up, Louis, I just wanna look—“

“Nice, yeah, yeah, I get it,” Louis snapped. “Are those the boots you plan on wearing?”

Harry panned the camera back up to his face and pouted. “Yeah. Why?”

“They’re hideous.”

“You’re hideous,” he muttered.

Louis rolled his eyes. 

“What if I wear that shirt I wore to Fashion Week?”

“The leopard print one?”

Harry scoffed. “No, the white one with—“

“No.”

“But—“

“Absolutely not, Harry.”

“But maybe he’ll—“

“I swear to God, Harry, if you say that maybe Matty would _like_ that shirt, I’m going to strangle you. You’ll look like a bloody idiot,” Louis snapped.

“I should’ve called Lou. She would’ve at least been supportive.”

“I’m being supportive,” Louis insisted. “You just don’t like my opinion. There’s a difference.”

Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard.”

“But you _are._ ”

“I _know_ that, Louis,” Harry grumbled. “But I don’t want to _look_ like I’m trying.”

Louis paused. “You’re worse than a girl, mate.”

“I am not,” Harry pouted. 

“Mate, just wear a plain shirt, some jeans, your _good_ boots, and shut the fuck up,” Louis told him.

“The brown suede ones?”

Louis nodded.

Harry sucked in a deep breath and walked over to his bed, picking up a pair of jeans. “What if—“

“Not the holey ones, Harry,” Louis told him.

“But—“

“I swear to God, Harry,” he repeated, “ **not** the holey jeans.”

Harry groaned and tossed his mobile down onto the mattress. “Fine. Gimme just a mo’, yeah?” He didn’t hear Louis reply so he quickly changed into a pair of black jeans, a loose black shirt, and he tugged on his _good_ boots. His mobile beeped with the alert of a new message and he instantly looked at the clock, seeing that he was close to running late. He cursed under his breath and picked up his mobile, showing Louis his outfit. “Better?”

“Much,” Louis told him. “Now about your hair—“

“Louis,” Harry whined, rolling his eyes. 

Louis laughed. “M’fuckin’ with ya, mate. Ya look good. Now go meet him before you’re late, yeah? Where are ya goin?”

Harry shrugged. “That new club down the way from Koko,” he told him.

Louis paused. “Is that really his scene?”

“Should we go somewhere else?” Harry asked instantly. “I could call and cancel the VIP room—“

“Harry, a VIP area?” Louis asked.

“Oh, God, what if it isn’t his scene? What if he thinks I’m trying too hard?”

“You _are,_ ” Louis muttered.

Harry groaned, running his hand through his hair. “I—“

“That club is fine, Harry, stop freaking out. You aren’t a teenage girl.”

“I know,” he pouted.

“Stop worrying. He asked you to do something, yeah?”

Harry nodded.

“Then you’re fine. Now go before you’re late. And use a condom!”

“Louis—“ Harry groaned when Louis hung up on him, the little shit. Of course he would make sure that he had the last word—always did, typical Louis. Harry didn’t have enough time to dwell on it before he pulled up his messages, seeing one from Matty.

_running a few min late. i’ll be there in ten._

**as long as you actually show this time ha (: .xx**

_i’ll be there._

 

+

 

Harry shoved his hands deep into his pockets as he saw Matt walk up the sidewalk. His heart was pounding in his chest, yet again, and he glanced down at his shirt. He shouldn’t have been worried about his outfit, it wasn’t really that _important,_ but it also was. And wow, okay, Matty wasn’t standing him up—he was _there._ He was walking down the sidewalk, a cigarette tucked behind his lips as he ran a hand through his hair. And Harry, he didn’t know what to say, what to do, and he was nervous and, okay, maybe this was a bad idea.

“Harry,” Matty said with a nod, dropping his cigarette to the ground and stamping it out. “Alright?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah. This place alright?”

Matty glanced up at the exterior of the building, ignoring the long queue and girls snapping photographs of him and Harry where they stood. He shrugged. “Never been here.”

“I came here with Grimmy once,” Harry told him, leading him up towards the door. Security nodded and waved them through; Harry briefly wondered if he should’ve brought someone, Cal or Paul or _whoever_ , as they made their way through the crowd. He felt Matty’s fingers twist in the hem of his jacket as they made his way through the crowd, stopping at the foot of the stairs. He turned to face Matty, glancing briefly down to where Matty’s long fingers were still twisting around the bottom of his blazer before looking back up at him. “Didn’t know it’d be this busy,” he told him.

Matty’s eyebrows rose. “Hmm?”

Harry leaned in, closer to him, repeating what he had just said. “Sorry.”

Matty smiled, just barely, a small tilt at the corner of his lips, and he shrugged. “S’alright.”

“Mr. Styles.”

Harry turned instantly as one of the club’s employees walked over to him, a wide smile on her face. “Yes?”

“Would you like to be taken to the VIP lounge?” she asked.

Harry glanced over at Matty, who just shrugged. “Yeah, alright. Just for a bit, yeah?”

“Good with me,” Matty told him.

The woman smiled and led them up the stairs towards the private little lounge, complete with plush couches and dim lights. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Vodka and cranberry, please,” Harry said politely.

“Whiskey and coke.”

The woman nodded before exiting the lounge.

Matty took a seat on the couch, digging his mobile out of his pocket, crossing one ankle over his knee. “You’ve been here before?”

Harry nodded, sitting down next to Matty. He left a bit of space between them, just in case; Harry didn’t have a lot of personal boundaries thanks to the rest of the lads, but that didn’t mean anything. The last thing he wanted was to scare Matt or…anything. He glanced around the lounge quickly, wondering if that was even Matty’s _scene._ But he was there, and he wasn’t leaving; he didn’t even look like he wanted to leave, so, Harry counted that as a win. “Yeah, just once with Grimmy. It wasn’t this busy, though.”

“Guess that happens when a pop star’s in the house,” Matty told him with a careless smirk.

Harry guessed Matty didn’t even realize when he was doing it, that little _smirk_ that seemed to perpetually be on his face. He shrugged and looked down at his hands, a wry smile on his face. “Yeah, sometimes,” he agreed. “So how was tour?”

Matty smiled. “Great, actually. Love the States. Always love playin’ for kids who know all the words, show up early, all that—it’s brilliant,” he told him. 

Harry was about to reply until the same woman from earlier joined them again, handing them their drinks. He slipped her a few notes, telling her to keep the change, and he took a small drink. “Yeah, I know what you mean. Playing in the States is such a different experience.”

“Yeah,” Matty agreed, taking a sip of his drink, falling silent.

Harry nursed his drink, finishing it quickly, and he almost wished he had the sense to ask for another before the woman left. Matt was silent, staring off into the distance, his drink nearly empty. Harry set his glass aside, pulling out his mobile, and sending out a quick group message to the lads.

_send help, i’m so awkward, what do i even say? help me .xx_

“Do you want another drink?” Harry asked, nodding towards Matty’s empty glass.

“Nah, m’good, thanks,” he said.

**ha ha! tell him yer a fan! be yourself! –n**

**you’re an idiot. don’t tell him you’re a fan. he probably already thinks you’re a nut. –lou**

**:(((( sorryyy want me to meet up w u? –li**

Harry sighed; the lads were no help at all. He watched briefly while Matt played around with his mobile, ignoring the thumping bass and the bright lights filtering around them, and it _definitely_ wasn’t his scene. Harry was an idiot; he didn’t know why he thought some new club would be the best place to meet up with the singer of one of his favorite bands that he may or may not have fanboy-ed over once (or ten times). He should’ve taken him to a coffee shop or a shopping center or some other hipster location that would’ve been a little bit quiet where they could actually _talk_ to one another. “This isn’t really your scene, is it?” Harry asked quickly.

Matty laughed softly. “Nah, mate, sorry—“

“No, don’t be sorry,” Harry interrupted suddenly. “I should’ve known.”

“How?” Matty asked softly. “You didn’t. And, uh, no offense to your mate, Grimmy, but this place sucks.”

Harry laughed loudly, running a hand through his curls, messing up his hair just a little bit more but—whatever. “Kind of does, yeah?”

“Wanna head back to mine?” Matty suggested.

Harry swallowed thickly and felt himself nodding. “Yeah. Sounds good.”

 

+

 

Matty’s flat was tiny, and Harry guessed it probably wasn’t because he couldn’t afford better, but because it fit him. It had a tiny kitchen, a tiny bathroom, and a large living area that tripled as a studio and a bedroom. Well, bedroom was a loose term—there was a mattress flung in the corner, covered with thick, ratty Afghans and about six pillows. His clothes were flung by a small closet, a few suitcases open in front of it with fabric spilling out, carelessly strewn across the floor. The couches were pushed to the side, a few guitars set up in the center of the room, but it just _felt_ like Matty. And, well, Harry could say that because he had really known Matty for all of two hours—if that; it made _total_ sense. 

“S’not much but I’m rarely here, so,” Matty announced, tossing his keys onto the floor before he knelt down to tug off his boots. He shoved them to the side before shrugging off his jacket, letting it fall on top of his boots, and he walked towards the kitchen. 

“S’nice, actually,” Harry told him honestly, toeing off his boots. He picked up Matty’s jacket and frowned. “Do you…want me to hang up your jacket?”

Matty leaned back to look at him, smiling. “If you want.”

Harry nodded and opened up the small door by the entrance, finding a hanger and draping Matt’s jacket over it. He shut the door quietly and followed Matty into the kitchen. 

“Bit of a neat freak?”

“Just used to cleaning up after the lads, I s’pose,” he told him with a shrug. 

“Tend to just toss things wherever I can, actually,” Matty said. “Want a drink?”

“Sure.”

Matty poured them both a glass of wine before nodding over towards the mattress, sitting down and handing Harry a glass. He pulled his laptop over to them and opened it up, taking a sip of his wine. “Movie?”

“Sure.”

“I don’t own a television so this’ll have to do,” he told him.

“That’s alright,” Harry said, taking a long sip of his wine when Matty readjusted next to him, pressing the length of their legs together. And, no, Harry wasn’t…he wasn’t _nervous,_ except. Okay, he was, and he realized that when Matty looked over at him, hazel eyes dropping to Harry’s lips briefly before meeting his eyes again and looking away. And, shit, Matty was actually gorgeous; not that Harry wasn’t completely aware of that before, but, he _was,_ in his own odd little way. He didn’t have the classic cheekbones-eyelashes-jawline beauty going for him in the same way that, say, Zayn did—but he had _cheekbones_ and cute little _ears_ and…everything, really. And Harry was probably a little infatuated…probably. 

Matty groaned when his laptop opened and he was instantly alerted with a plethora of emails that he just wanted to delete without reading but couldn’t. He rolled his eyes and finished his wine, setting the glass on the hardwood floor and ignoring it completely. “Ever get tired of the constant string of emails you’re supposed to answer?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Harry said with a nod. 

“Just wanna make music, yeah? All this bullshit PR is just bullshit. If I have to answer one more question about the ‘Girls’ video, I’m gonna punch someone,” he muttered.

Harry smiled softly, taking a drink of his wine. “S’a great video.”

Matty looked over Harry, pursing his lips. “Yeah?”

Harry nodded quickly. “It was—great, really,” he repeated. 

“Thanks,” he said softly.

He smiled and nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving Matty’s and, okay, there was a _look_ that Harry couldn’t place, not really. And he found himself leaning in and brushing his lips across Matty’s quickly. It took less than two seconds for his brain to catch up with his body and he pulled away quickly, blushing. “Um—sorry, m’just—bathroom,” he said quietly, standing up and rushing over towards the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. He set his glass down on the sink and stared at his reflection, wide eyes and flushed cheeks, and what the _fuck_ was he thinking just _kissing_ Matty? He—fuck. He pulled his mobile out of his pocket and opened up his group text from earlier.

_help help I just kissed him. oh god i’m an idiot someone save me .xx_

**ha ha! did he push u away? Just go fr it! –n**

**wnt me 2 call w emrgncy?? –li**

**you’re an idiot. –lou**

Harry pouted and wondered briefly why Zayn wasn’t replying but, hell, Zayn rarely replied so it wasn’t a surprise. He allowed himself another thirty seconds of self-pity and almost took Liam up on his offer—that would’ve been an easy way out. Instead he shoved his mobile back into his pocket and splashed some cold water on his face, fixing his hair, and he sucked in a deep breath. He could do this. He was _Harry Styles_ and it would take a lot more than a kiss to scare him off…maybe. Actually, probably not. No, he definitely had to get out of there.

“Y’alright, mate?” Matty called from the next room.

Harry cleared his throat and opened the door, walking out slowly. “Yeah. M’just gonna… I should go, yeah?”

Matty looked up at him and shrugged, pulling his cigarettes out from his pocket and lighting one up. “If you want.”

“Right,” Harry said. “Um, sorry for…” he trailed off, waving his hand around. “Y’know.”

“Sorry for kissing me?”

Harry flinched and he knew he was blushing _again._ “Yeah, um. Guess I just…misread… Not that there were any _signs,_ ” he added quickly, “but.”

Matty smiled, taking a slow drag before blowing the smoke out. He didn’t reply for a minute, choosing to finish the cigarette before stubbing it out in the ashtray, and he leaned forward, resting his forearms across his knees. “C’mere.”

Harry nodded and crossed the room without a second thought, and he was pretty sure that he was completely unable to say no to Matty. Matty looked up at him, expecting, eyes wide, and Harry dropped to his knees, bringing himself to the same level that Matty was on. He shivered when Matty’s fingertips trailed over his forearm, toying with the leather strap of his watch; he forced himself to meet Matty’s eyes, choking down his nerves, trying to steady his breathing and his rapid heart rate. 

“You’re different than they make you out to be,” Matty said quietly.

“What do you mean?” he asked softly.

Matty shrugged. “Innocent, more like. Not much of a Casanova, eh?” he teased.

Harry felt himself flush again and he shrugged, looking down at the floor to avoid Matty’s eyes. 

“Nothin’ wrong with that, I s’pose,” Matty decided. “Guess I could teach ya a few things, yeah?”

Harry grinned and looked up at Matty from under his eyelashes. “Maybe m’not that innocent,” he told him. 

“Sweet and innocent just a ruse, then?” Matty teased. “Got some moves?”

“I got moves,” Harry said with a nod, feeling the nerves in his stomach start to disappear since the mood had been lightened, if only slightly. Matty still had a particular way of messing with Harry’s mind, and he didn’t know how to deal with it.

Matty smiled, tongue darting out to wet his lips, and he fixed Harry with a pointed stare. “Yeah?”

Harry nodded.

“Show me.”

And, well, it’s not like Harry could say no to _that._ Because Matty was interested, obviously, and Harry was interested, obviously, so—why not? Harry leaned forward, pressing their lips together again, and Matty’s fingers instantly found their way to the back of Harry’s head, twisting in the curls at the nape of his neck. If Harry thought that he was going to have any control over the kiss at first, he was completely _wrong,_ because Matty took over instantly, tilting Harry’s head just enough to catch him off guard, completely overwhelming him with the smallest touch. 

Harry's heart was pounding in his chest, and he was positive that he had never been so thoroughly _kissed_ before, but Matty's lips were wicked, leaving Harry breathless. Harry instantly reached out and braced himself, fingers gripping Matty's knees; Matty trailed his fingertips down the side of Harry's neck, stopping just above his pulse.

Matty pulled away slowly, smiling when Harry mirrored his actions, following him without hesitating, and he took in Harry's dilated pupils and flushed cheeks with a look of pride. It was adorable, really, how much Harry wanted to impress him. Matty leaned in quickly, brushing their lips together briefly, before leaning back, resting his palms against the mattress. "Gon' show me those moves then?" he asked with a cheeky grin, unable to stop himself.

Harry nodded quickly, reaching up to push his curls out of his eyes. "Lay back, yeah?"

Matty laughed softly but did as Harry asked, settling back against the mattress and tucking his hands underneath his head. He heard Harry shifting around and jerked when he felt Harry's cold hands against his stomach, pushing his shirt up until it was bunched under his arms. "Could've asked me to take it off, y'know," he mused.

"Like you better like this," Harry told him, shifting on his knees to lean over Matty's body and press his lips against his abdomen.

Matty's breath caught in his throat as Harry's tongue traced the outline of ink spread across his stomach and hip, dipping beneath the hem of his tight jeans that were getting _tighter_ by the second. His eyes slipped shut as Harry's fingers deftly unbuckled his belt and jeans, tugging them down his hips and over his thighs. He shivered when the cool air spread over his legs and he felt Harry pull the fabric off his legs, tossing it aside. Harry's lips found his stomach again, following the small trail of hair until he reached the base of his cock, hard and leaking against his abdomen. Matty reached out and threaded his fingers through Harry's thick curls, leading him further down.

Harry smiled softly and wrapped his long fingers around the base of Matty's cock. He let Matt guide him further down, the head of his cock tracing Harry's lips, and his tongue darted out to taste him. A small groan escaped Matty's mouth as Harry eyes met his own, and he watched as Harry wrapped his lips around him. Harry's fingers dug into the skin of Matty's thigh and he didn't miss the curses falling from Matty's lips as he slid his mouth further down his length.

Matty's fingers tightened in Harry's curls as the younger boy swallowed him down, his tongue working the thick vein on the underside of his cock. And, yeah, okay, Matty was _impressed_ because Harry had the perfect mouth for what he was doing, and he did it _well._ Harry's teeth grazed the base of his cock and it wasn't painful, not in the least, but if surprised Matty enough for his hips to buck up, and Harry gagged around him briefly before pulling off.

"Sorry," Harry whispered, his voice rough, and he reached up to wipe his lips with the back of his hand.

"Should be my line," Matty muttered with a grin.

Harry shrugged with one shoulder and met his eyes shyly. "Do you wanna...fuck my mouth?" he asked softly, as if he wasn't prepared for the answer, as if he was embarrassed.

Matty hesitated, eyes widening. "You... You're sure? I—l"

"Done it before," Harry told him.

"Not too keen on hurting you."

"Doesn't hurt," Harry insisted. "I—Would you?"

Matty nodded slowly. "Yeah, I—yeah," he said, clearing his throat.

Harry smiled, dimple deepening, and he reached for Matty's hands, positioning them behind his head. He gripped Matty's hips lightly and leaned back down, wrapping his lips around the head of his cock, tongue instantly sliding over the tip. Matty sucked in a deep breath as Harry's throat relaxed around him, their eyes meeting. And Harry looked so innocent, so _trusting,_ and it was almost too much. Harry pinched Matt's thigh and he hissed in pain, hips jerking up. The apology died on his tongue when Harry moaned around him and, fuck, Harry _liked_ it. That's why he asked Matty to— _that's_ why he had been embarrassed.

Matty dug his fingers against Harry's scalp and thrust his hips up once, twice, cursing when Harry's tongue swirled around him. And it was a sight, really, the way Harry's jaw was slack around him, and Matty thrust into him again, mesmerized by the way Harry just _took it._ And it should've been illegal, how gorgeous Harry looked swallowing around him, and Matty couldn't stave off the sensation bubbling in the pit of his stomach.

"Harry—m'gonna—" Matty's warning caught in his throat as Harry moaned around him again, and he came with a soft gasp, fingers tight in Harry's curls.

Harry pulled away from him slowly, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand again. "Yeah?" he asked, his voice rough, deeper than normal.

Matty nodded and felt himself laugh softly because, fuck, _he_ did that to Harry, made his cheeks all red and his voice fucked out. And he was _proud._

Harry smiled and climbed onto the mattress on top of him, straddling his hips and reaching for his belt, tugging his jeans open and shoving his hand inside. Harry whimpered as he wrapped his fingers around his swollen length, finally relieving some of the pressure, thumb swiping over the tip. His eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head when he felt Matty's long fingers join his own, tight around the base, wrist twisting on each stroke, and Harry let his hand fall to the side. He leaned forward against Matt's chest, lips finding his neck, and he sucked lazily at the skin, not intending to leave a mark or anything—just to taste, really.

"Gonna come for me, love?"

Harry nodded, panting against the side of Matty's neck as he came, a quiet moan escaping his lips. He slumped against Matty, breathless and spent, heart racing in his chest.

Matty slowly laid him down against the mattress, brushing his lips across his forehead. "Back in a mo," he whispered before standing up, kicking his jeans out of his way. He stripped his shirt off, dropping it carelessly to the ground before making his way to the bathroom. He wet a flannel and wiped at his stomach before returning to Harry and cleaning him up. He tossed the flannel aside before pulling Harry's jeans and pants down his legs, shoving them to the side, and he helped Harry sit up long enough to remove his shirt.

Harry reached towards Matty, gripping his biceps and pulling him down, snuggling against his side.

Matty stilled for a second, maybe two, before giving in and wrapping an arm around Harry's shoulder. He felt Harry's fingertips tracing the ink on his stomach, hearing him hum something familiar under his breath. "What song is that?" he asked quietly.

" _You know he likes to get blown. Has he got—_ "

Matty cut him off with a loud laugh, shaking his head. "Really, Harry?"

Harry looked up at him and grinned. "Feel like you just had one off with a groupie?" he asked softly, clearing his throat, his voice still rough.

"Little bit," he said with a shrug. "Quite flattering, though, havin' such a huge pop star all over me," he teased.

Harry pinched his side. "Stop. That's embarrassing," he muttered.

"What's embarrassing is you singing my own song to me after getting me off," Matty told him with a grin.

Harry shrugged and smiled because, no, _that_ wasn't embarrassing at all. "Still wanna watch a film?" he asked.

Matty nodded and reached for his laptop at the same time Harry covered them with one of his many thick Afghans. "You pick."


End file.
